


Out of Place - A Negan One-Shot

by you_a_southpaw_doll_45



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Even when he's a total badass and asshole, Explicit Language, F/M, He can be a total sweetheart, Implied Past Child Abuse, Negan Fluff, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 03:49:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_a_southpaw_doll_45/pseuds/you_a_southpaw_doll_45
Summary: After getting injured while out on a run, Leigh (OFC) and Negan have a sit down and discuss something important between the two of ‘em.





	Out of Place - A Negan One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): Explicit language. Implied mentions of past child abuse. Negan fluff - he can still be a total sweetheart even though he’s also a badass. Slight angst.

Fuck.

Negan’s gonna be super fuckin’ pissed with me when I get back to the Sanctuary. His one rule for letting me go out with the Saviors was that I didn’t do anything stupid to end up hurt or dead. Granted, I didn’t do anything stupid. Nor am I dead. So that’s a plus, right? Probably not. I’ll never hear the end of it now. I groan as the truck bounces over a big-ass fuckin’ pothole in the middle of the road. I clutch my shoulder and shoot a glare at Simon.

“Fuckin’ hell, Si! Take it fuckin’ easy, will you?” I hiss.

“Sorry, Leigh! I’m tryin’ here. But, if I don’t get your ass back home, the Boss is gonna have my ass on a platter.” He says.

“Whatever.”

Within a few minutes, Simon’s pulling the truck up to the gate. As soon as he pulls through, and the truck’s stopped, I’m out and heading towards the infirmary. I need Carson to set my shoulder back into place. Somehow, I manage to avoid running into Negan as I make my way to where I need to be. The infirmary door’s closed, so I open it with my right hand since my left arm is useless at the moment. Carson jumps up from his chair when he sees me enter the room. He takes one look at my bloody clothes, me clutching my shoulder, and ushers me to one of the empty beds.

“What happened?” He asks as he grabs some medical supplies.

“My shoulder’s dislocated, Doc.” I say, stating the obvious.

“I can see that. What ‘bout the other marks?”

I shake my head. “Nothing but scrapes. I had to jump through a window.”

He looks at me in shock and mutters something under his breath.

“Yea. Yea. I know. Negan’s gonna be pissed.” I say.

He nods. “I think that’s gonna be an understatement. I still gotta check the other marks. Are they on your torso and back?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He sighs. “I need to cut away your shirt then, get those marks cleaned and covered, then I’ll take care of your shoulder. I assume you can’t take your shirt off?”

I shake my head. “My arm’s useless right now.”

He nods. “Ok. I’ll have to cut it off then.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do what now?”

“Your shirt, Leigh. I’ll have to cut it off.”

I let out a deep breath. “Ok. Good.”

“Did you think I meant your arm?”

I raise my right shoulder up in a half shrug. “We were talkin’ ‘bout my arm there, doc.”

He chuckles. “Negan would kill me if I cut your arm without havin’ a good reason to do so.”

“I’d do it first before he could. ‘Sides, you know I’m partial to my left-hand. What with me being a lefty and all.”

Carson chuckles. “I know.”

He grabs a pair of trauma shears and cuts away my t-shirt, being mindful of my left arm, leaving me in nothing but my black bra. He quickly sets about cleaning up the scrapes and minor wounds on my torso, back, and shoulders. I feel his left hand on the front part of my shoulder, closer to my collarbone and the base of my neck. His other hand is on the back side of my shoulder. He looks at me.

“So, if you had to choose between havin’ Pete Rose or Tug McGraw inducted into the Hall of Fame, who would go with?” He asks.

My brow furrows. That is one random ass fuckin’ question. ‘Specially considering Pete Rose was all inducted into the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame in 1983. But, I still have my answer at the ready.

“You know I’ll have to go with Tug McG- AHHHHH! FUCKIN’ HELL, CARSON!” I yell.

The fucker jerked my shoulder while I was talking to set it back into place. I glare at him. He only looks partially apologetic.

“Sorry, Leigh. It was best to distract you while I set your arm back in place.” He apologizes. “And I know baseball’s one of the best ways to do that.”

I glare at him, but I don’t really mean it. He grabs an ACE bandage gently wraps my shoulder, keeping it in place. The door to the infirmary slams open.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’ TO HER, CARSON?” Negan bellows.

I sigh. Carson only slightly visibly trembles as he pins the end of the ACE bandage to itself.

“He was re-settin’ my shoulder. Calm down.” I say.

Negan jerks his head to look at me. I can see the fury in his eyes. But, more than that, I see the worry that fills ‘em too. He only calms down a little bit.

“Don’t tell me to fuckin’ calm the fuck down when I can hear you fuckin’ yellin’ halfway ‘cross the fuckin’ Sanctuary, doll.” He seethes.

He makes his way over so that he’s standing beside me. He shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders, and drapes it over mine. He looks at Carson.

“She ok?” He asks.

Carson nods. “She’s fine. Just can’t lift anythin’ heavy for a few weeks, and I don’t really want her usin’ her left arm too much, if she ain’t got to.”

“So…what you’re sayin’ is that she shouldn’t go out scavengin’ for a while?”

“I mean, that’s entirely up to you, sir, but no. I wouldn’t advise doin’ that.”

Negan nods. “Thanks. Anythin’ else?”

Carson shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Good.” He looks at me. “C’mon, doll. You’re comin’ with me.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “I am, am I?”

“Yes. You fuckin’ are.”

“Thanks for askin’ me what I wanted to do.”

He sighs. “Fine. What do you want to do?”

I tilt my head from side to side, pretending to contemplate my answer, even though I already know what I’m gonna say.

“I’ll come with you.” I say.

He grins. “Good.”

“But only ‘cause you and I need to have a serious talk.”

His face falls. “You’re right we do.”

It takes me a second to realize that he just agreed with me. He hardly ever does that. He takes my shock as a moment to fix his jacket hanging off my shoulders. He holds it open for me. I realize that he’s helping me put it on. I can’t lift my left arm too much so he lowers the jacket and gently slides it up my arm. Once he does that, he holds the right side so that I can slip my arm into the sleeve. He very carefully and almost lovingly zips the jacket up so that my boobs are covered. He helps me down off the table.

“Leigh. Here.” Carson says, handing me something.

I notice that it’s some pain pills. He gives me instructions on how many to take, and how often to take the medicine.

 

****

 

“I got rid of the wives.”

“I don’t want to be _one_ of the _wives_ anymore.”

We both look at each other in shock. We both said what we wanted to at the exact same time.  _He got rid of the wives? Why?_  I watch as his facial features go from caring to hurt to angry and back to hurt.

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t want to fuckin’ be one of the fuckin’ wives anymore?” He hisses, trying to keep his voice low and calm.

I can tell he’s hurt by what I said. I didn’t want to hurt him. I sigh as I shift slightly on the couch in his office. He leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees.

“I can’t just be another  _one_  of the  _wives_  to you, Negan. I love you too much. And, with you being with them, it breaks my heart even more, and I can’t get hurt again. Not after last time.” I say. “I just can’t. You mean too much to me as is.”

He sighs and hangs his head. “That’s why I got rid of ‘em, doll. You’re not just another one of ‘em. You’re the only one that matters to me.”

I take in a deep breath. He lifts his head. I can tell he’s hurting right now. His eyes are a little watery, and his voice cracked a couple times while he was talking.

“You mean that?” I ask.

He nods. “I do. I love you, doll. And you know that’s not somethin’ I let myself do. I’m scared fuckin’ shitless at the fact that I do love you. But that’s ‘cause I don’t – no, I can’t – lose you, and everyone I’ve ever loved, I’ve lost.”

I move so that I’m kneeling between his legs. I place my right hand on his knee. He lowers his head slightly so he can look me in the eyes. A tear rolls down his cheek.

“I love you too, Negan. More than anythin’. You know that.” I say.

He nods. “Do you still not want to be my wife?”

“I don’t want to be  _one_ of the  _wives_.”

He sighs. “But…I got rid of ‘em. It’d be just you, sweetheart.”

“Then, of course, I’ll still be your wife.”

His face lights up like a little boy on Christmas morning who just got the one thing he’s wanted for years.

“Yeah?” He asks, softly.

I smile. “Yeah.”

He leans forward and kisses me. He scoops me up and sets me on his lap as he goes to deepen the kiss. I can’t help but let out a groan of pain at the swift movement. It jostles my arm too much. Negan immediately stops his actions and pulls back.

“Doll?” He asks, worriedly. “You ok?”

I nod slowly. “My arm.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I pulled you up too quickly, didn’t I?”

I don’t answer him verbally. I can’t. He can see the answer in my eyes, though, and he lowers his head.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to hurt you even more.” He mumbles.

I lean forward and kiss his forehead. He tilts his head back slightly so he can look at me. I bring my right hand up and run it through his slicked back hair.

“It’s ok, honey. I just can’t move that fast right now.” I say. “Give me a couple weeks, ok?”

He nods. “Why does it sound like you’ve been through this before?”

“I have. A dislocated shoulder is nothing new to me. I’ve had ‘bout seven or eight since I was three years old.”

“What the fuck? Why so many?”

“Let’s just say that my dad was an abusive asshole and I was also a klutz growing up.”

“But…to the same shoulder?”

I nod. “Yea. My right one’s only been dislocated twice.”

“Fuck. Can I introduce Lucille to your father?”

I shake my head. “No. I disowned him when I turned nineteen and went off to college. I haven’t talked to him since then. I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

“Well, if he is, and I run across him, he won’t live too long. Between this and the shit you told me he did to you beforehand, that fucker better hope he’s not still alive.”

I lean forward and gently kiss him. “I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you too, doll.”

“I gotta lay down.”

He nods and slowly stands up, cradling me in his arms, being careful not to put me in more pain than I’m already in. He carries me from his office to his bedroom. I’m the only one he lets sleep in his room. He sets me down on my side of the bed after shifting me in his arms slightly so that he can pull the blankets back. I sit on the edge of the bed once he steps back slightly. I unzip his leather jacket and shrug it off my right shoulder. I struggle while trying to get it off my left arm, but Negan quickly steps in to help me. Once the jacket’s off, he unclasps my bra and tosses his on the floor.

“You want one of my shirts, sweetheart?” He asks.

“Yes, please.” I reply.

He smiles as he walks over to his dresser and pulls out one of his light grey t-shirts. He comes back over to me, and helps me put the shirt on. Once that task’s completed, I lay down on the bed, under the covers. Negan strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed beside me. Thankfully, he sleeps on the right side of the bed, so I can still snuggle up next to him and lay my head on his chest. I carefully drape my left arm across his tummy. He curls his arm ‘round me, and rests his hand on my head, so he can run his fingers through my hair.

“So…doll. What the fuck happened out there on the run?” He asks after a few minutes.

“Isaac and I had cleared one of the rooms, so we were gettin’ what we could to bring back when a group of ‘bout ten walkers busted into the room. The only way out was through the window, so I grabbed Isaac, and threw us out the window. We landed in the dumpster, so thankfully the impact wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.” I explain.

He grunts. “He’s the new kid, right?”

I nod. “Yea. It was his first run.”

“And, how badly was he hurt?”

“Not at all. I took most of the force from the fall.”

“He’s gonna have to pay. He should’ve been protectin’ you.”

“Negan, honey. It’s ok. Out there, we protect each other. You can’t hurt him.”

“I can too.”

“Fine. I’m askin’ you not to.”

“But.”

“No, Negan. No buts ‘bout this. I’m alive. Ok. Yes, I have a fucked up shoulder again, but it ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle. I’m alive. That’s what matters.”

“Fine. But, I don’t want you goin’ out there anymore. When they radioed in sayin’ that you’d been hurt, my heart stopped fuckin’ beatin’. I was scared that I was gonna fuckin’ lose you.”

“I’m sorry. But, I’ll agree to not goin’ back out there again, as long as you let me have another job. You know I can’t just do nothin’ all day, and I refuse to wear a dress.”

He chuckles slightly. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I’ll think of somethin’ else you can do, but you ain’t doin’ shit till your arm heals. And, you know I wouldn’t make you wear a dress. You’ve already explained your reasons behind not doing so, and I ain’t gonna push it. Besides, you still look sexy as fuckin’ shit in a pair of cargo pants, combat boots, and one of my t-shirts.”

“Deal. And, you just like seeing me in your clothes.”

He laughs. “Guilty as fuckin’ charged.”

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with the idea to write this after I had trouble falling asleep the other night due to my shoulder injury, and I got to thinkin’ ‘bout how the love of my life would handle the situation, how JDM would handle the situation, and ultimately how Negan would handle the situation, and well, out of the three, I went with Negan’s response and wrote ‘bout it.


End file.
